After a few hours staking out the chess table and practicing against himself, Jon Huntsman defeats Rick Perry in a matter of minutes, using only three moves. Both Perry and Romney tried to defeat him constantly throughout the day, but he warded them off due to his ever-increasing Logic skill.
I noticed Ron Paul doing some sort of weird stiff lurching motion, and took a picture just in case.
It turns out he was sneaking around to inform [REDACTED] about the second amendment in his shrillest scream. No problem there, then.
Meanwhile, the Herminator gets his browsing on. His subject is somewhat suspect, though. The staring doesn't help.
Furnishing a house for seven people with presidential tastes and one guy who really doesn't care is really expensive. I couldn't quite afford a car, so we have half a dozen bikes to ride around on, courtesy of Irin. On Monday, the podium cleaning squad shall ride these en masse to City Hall, where they shall shine the podiums of politicians who actually matter.
The Republican Nomination Station, Mark I.
This is the layout. Around the edges, there are six single bedrooms and a Rick room. There's a living room, a small kitchen, and an entertainment center. It looks like there's a bathroom, but there's really not. It turns out that in my quest to cut costs, I bought potty-training toilets that the fancy-shmancy adults of the household will not deign to poop on.
The Republican Nomination Station, Mark II. The new one-room upper floor is full of showering stalls, to prevent the previous bottleneck. The old training pots were torn out of the lower bathroom, and four toilet stalls were installed. The upper floor may expand later, if we don't decide to move to a more accommodating abode.
Back inside the house, Mr. [BEEP] has decided to strip down to his swimwear and complain at the kitchen counter. The counter stands resolute. Newt Gingrich looks on with a completely unreadable expression. I'll leave that one to your imaginations.
Meanwhile, Irin cooks up some grub. It wasn't very appetizing, considering the reaction of everyone else, but he seemed to like it. He only made enough for seven bowls, though, so Herman and Rick S. had a race for the last one. Herman won by a landslide, due to Rick's turn suddenly coming up in the bathroom line. Rick was disappointed to find Huntsman waiting for him, though, who started a shouting match and caused his pee-meter to overflow just before he reached the toilet.
The new showers prompted a rush up the stairs, as everyone decided to take a shower before bed. Rick, having to mop up his urine puddle, got to the showers last. By the time he got a chance to go in, he was starving. He postponed showering until he could go down to the kitchen and make some food. After showering, it was already almost midnight, and everyone else was asleep. There was just one little problem.
Rick Perry had already gone to bed, and not on the right side! Due to the size constraints of the room, there was no way around to the other side, and he wasn't waking up. In the morning, the bed would have to be rotated, but there was no way he could move it right then.
For a few minutes, he just stood in shock, presumably at how horrible his day had been.
Cue him freaking the fuck out for eight hours, screaming at the top of his lungs and flailing at the walls and air with his fists. Rick would not budge, but the opportunity to vent while nobody else was around was a small improvement to his mood.
After this fit, he ran screaming from the room. As his partner woke up and stepped into the common room to make some breakfast, he found [CENSORED] just lying on the floor.